


Fixation

by octopussy (deannawincester)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Codependency, Coming Untouched, Crying, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Felching, Fingering While Fucking, Grooming, M/M, Manipulative Sam, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, slutty sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deannawincester/pseuds/octopussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam’s intimately acquainted with Dean’s dick before he ever touches it that way. In fact, Sam’s <i>certifiably fixated</i> on Dean’s dick by the time he touches it that way. </p><p>(AKA an exploration of Sam’s love affair with his brother’s cock)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollylux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/gifts).



> i blame [this anon](http://dollylux.tumblr.com/post/136301853081/did-you-know-that-twink-sam-is-a-total-slut-for) who inspired the [submission](http://dollylux.tumblr.com/post/136303309256/re-sams-love-affair-with-his-brothers-dick) that mutated into this fic.
> 
> darling dollylux, i thought it only appropriate to gift this to you seeing as it's your birthday and you're one of the big reasons i begin to have my words back. happy birthday!

Sam’s pretending to do his homework when Dean emerges from the shower, scrubbed pink and still dripping sparkling little droplets from his wet hair. He doesn’t bother to wrap the motel-threadbare towel around his hips to hide his dark-damp pubic curls and soft-swinging dick. Because Dad’s not there.

And Sam doesn’t bother to look away. Because Dean already knows that all he has to do to get Sam’s attention is to spread his legs or adjust his pants. Bare like this, there’s no way Sam would look anywhere else.

Sometimes he wonders how he contracted this deep, fixed disease. Perhaps he was born this way, bred this way somehow.

But maybe it was simple training, perpetual reinforcement. God knows this obsession was just hanging there for the taking or the stumbling into with their too-close life.

Maybe any twelve year old boy would feel this way if.

If that boy’s big brother had potty trained him when their dad ran out of money and patience for diapers. If that boy’s brother showed him how to stand and how to hold it and how to shake it clean.

If that boy had woken up countless mornings with his big brother’s cock pressed into the small of his back, slick with sweat and sometimes night-come, recognizable even through pajamas and boxers. If pressing back into his big brother felt like the comfort of home in yet another featureless motel room, in spite of the secret slip-slide between them.

If that boy had washed the secret small of his big brother’s back and brushed over the illicit heft of his big brother’s dick during a hundred makeshift bubble baths. If baths with his big brother after hurts and hunts and long days folded up in the car were the primary source of physical affection through that boy’s formative years.

If, at nine, that boy had bent down to grab a shirt from a thrift store dressing room floor while shopping for secondhand jeans and raised his head to find himself with an eyeful of his big brother’s bare dick, literally dangling in front of his eyes and smelling like a man even at thirteen.

If that boy had wrestled his big brother to the floor for fun or training in various states of undress and time after time felt the telltale bulge brought on by adrenaline and close contact.

Sometimes he wonders if anyone else truly understands fixation like this, if anyone on the planet has experienced an obsession so hinged on a single body part on a single human body. Even if.

Sam doesn’t even pretend to pay his homework any attention as Dean runs the towel down between his legs, around his balls, lifting them into a better vantage point from where Sam’s sitting.

Sam watches Dean get hard, a single aching twitch at a time, as Dean notices Sam staring.

Dean saunters close to the table where Sam has papers spread out in front of him. The chair Sam’s in sits so low that he has to look up a little to keep Dean’s dick in his sight, has to look up past Dean’s dick to see his smirk.

“See somethin’ you like, Sammy?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Dean knows and _has known_ that his little, little brother loves him and his big-boy dick. Has known since Sam first offered to hold Dean’s cock so he could take a piss comfortably when Dean broke two fingers, but Sam trembled and let out a quiet almost-whimper when finally touching him down there.

Has known since Sam started to rub up against Dean’s morning wood while pretending to still be asleep, to feel the squish of Dean’s occasional wet dream or to drive Dean close enough to the edge that he had to choose: leave to rub one out or come in stripes up Sam’s bare, sleep-warm back.

Has known since Sam sponge-bathed him after a hunt that left him with a deep, slow-healing laceration on his left thigh and Sam couldn't take his eyes off the shape of Dean's dick, couldn't help but brush his fingers feather-careful against it.

Has honestly known since the dressing room incident, even though at the time he gripped his dick hard to tamp down his response and laughed at Sam’s slack-jawed expression and teased about how one day Sam might be so big, if he was lucky.

Has known beyond the shadow of any doubt since the first time that he pushed his hips up against Sam’s while wrestling and felt Sam dig in and whimper and bow his back to press them closer together.

Has known since he started teaching Sam exactly what to do with his cock. How to rub it deep through Dean’s jeans, how to tender the head when there’s still a load of come sliding around in his mouth, how to make the space between his thighs or ass cheeks tight for it to fuck into.

Dean’ll know how much Sam likes what he see with even more clarity after tonight. And after he forgives Sam for tonight, he'll never forget how much Sam likes it.

Sam had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but Dean's started putting restrictions on Sam's access since a trucker walked in on them at a rest stop bathroom when Sam was on his knees, dripping fresh come straight from his mouth back onto Dean's still-hard dick to lick it off again. If a trucker could walk in on them like that, so could anyone else. Even Dad.

Which Sam gets, he does.

It's just that none of the waking nightmares he's had about their dad separating him and Dean compares to draw of what Dean keeps in his jeans.

And Sam has to have it.

Has to have Dean's dick sliding between his hands, laying hard on his body, fucking deep in his mouth, trailing through the sweat on his skin, resting soft against his leg, fitting into his secret, pink places. _Has_ to.

As much as Dean has tried to tap the brakes on Sam's mania, maybe finally seeing how fucked up it is that he's blown through most of Sam's firsts in less than a year, he's only succeeded in making Sam want more.

It's all Sam's thought about today. What got him off when he woke up with Dean drooling on his arm and Dean's dick dripping at his hip, what he tried to forget all day in school with sticky boxer briefs and a single breathless wank in a bathroom stall, and what he dreamed of as he fucked his virgin-tight asshole full of stolen lube and practiced opening himself up while Dean showered.

And now Dean's standing wet and fresh-clean in front of him, hard and mouthwateringly close.

He doesn't answer Dean out loud, just pushes away from the table a bit so he can turn his body and get his face right under the curve of his brother's cock, mouth open to kiss at the fuck-hot skin stretched tight there.

"Whoa there, tiger," Dean huffs at him, indulgent fingers running over and over the open shape of Sam's mouth, dipping in like he's checking if Sam's mouth is ready for him. "Don't you have, I dunno, homework to finish or something?"

Sam shakes his head, dragging his tongue fondly over the topography of Dean's cock with the motion.

"Huh-uh, all done."

"Sure? You've still got a bunch of shit spread out-" Dean breaks of when Sam catches the very tip of his cock between his lips and traces the roundness of the heart-shaped head right up into the slit where he can taste _just_ how much Dean likes having his dick on Sam's face.

Sam presses his tongue in hard like he could actually fit into that tiny hole and then leans back. He knows that the pout he pulls and the whine he lets out make him look baby-soft and needy-as-fuck. He's counting on it.

"You gonna tutor me in math or you gonna fuck me?"

Dean growls and drags Sam's face back in, too-big hands concussion-hard at the base of his little skull. Sam savors the impact of Dean's first thrust, aching cock forcing his lips apart, throat wide open and suffocatingly full. He doesn't mind gagging a bit, sloppy spit dripping where they're connected, it just means he can feel exactly how big that dick is in his too-young body.

Besides, Dean likes the knee-jerk clenching of Sam's closed airway around him. If the guttural moan Dean releases wasn't enough to reassure Sam of that fact, his little "fuck yes" is.

Dean makes harsh animal noises, fucking with the full range of his talented teenage hips. Sam shapes his tongue around the underside of that dick he loves, closes his eyes and lets Dean fuck him so deep he could pass out from it. Right when his body begins to protest in ernest, Dean pulls out entirely.

When Sam looks up, Dean looks like a monster above him, eyes dark and possessive and Sam twists up inside with how much he loves that wicked gaze on his jailbait-innocent body.

Dean hauls him up from his chair, licks away the precome and spit lingering on his chin, murmuring about the perfection of Sam's suck, like he's the blowjob queen at Dean's school instead of his bratty not-even-teenaged brother.

Dean strips him out of his clothes as he manhandles him onto the bed, leaving him bare on his stomach when Dean presses right down on him. Sam tightens his body so Dean has a small, smooth space to fuck between his thighs, but that's not what he wants tonight.

"Put it against me, Dean, wanna feel," Sam can barely breathe, but he knows how much he wants this, knows how important the right angle will be.

The pressure comes broad and heavy against his untried hole, glancing off as Dean fucks into his little boy butt cheeks like he has a thousand times. He gets in a couple good thrusts before Sam reaches back to grip his hip where he can feel Dean's thighs move.

Sam licks his lips and arches his back, ass up in a pose he learned from pin-ups and cheerleaders Dean's fucked.

"Just pretend, just push it in me, just a little. Please, Dean," he gasps.

Dean rubs the tip into the wrinkles of Sam's asshole like he's imagining what it's like inside there and Sam flexes just to make Dean curse.

"Please, Dean," he's crying a little now, too keyed up for too long on his brother's cock and this concept. " _Fuck_ _me_."

When Dean shoves against him again, Sam bears down like he practiced and it's finally _in_ him. There's too much momentum for Dean to pull out, which Sam counted on but could never have fully anticipated.

Dean's cock splits him inside, overloads all of Sam's senses. He comes instantly, convulsing and sobbing against the bed.

Sam’s never understood how holes turn out like they do in the porn even some of the high school kids won’t watch, but with Dean boring through him he knows he's permanently changed inside, knows Dean will leave him hollowed out and gaping.

Even though Dean stills the instant he realizes what Sam's done, there's no undoing this.

"Oh shit, Sammy. Oh god," Dean starts to pull away and Sam's too raw, more unprepared than he could have fathomed.

What sounds like a scream in his head is probably a whimper as he grabs at Dean.

"Please, don't."

Sam doesn't really know what he's asking for, but he suddenly understands just how fucked up he is because as much Dean throbbing in his guts hurts, he wants to feel stripped down, flayed open, and unmistakably aroused like this forever.

He shifts, pushing his hips up again, struggling not to gasp with the overstimulation of Dean on him and in him.

"Just . . . just fuck me," he begs.

"You sure?" Dean's voice is steady, but Sam can hear the tension there, torn between wanting to claim what Sam's offered and not wanting to cause any more pain.

Sam yanks Dean's hands into his, anchoring himself in the way their fingers intertwine and their arms wrap under him. He fucks back, showing Dean just how deep he want this rut, just how serious he still is.

Dean's weight makes Sam's hips shake and his lungs hesitate while Dean's girth makes his insides burn. It's better than Sam could've possibly conceived.

He must say something, must encourage Dean because suddenly Sam's slammed flat and forced open.

"Yeah, Sammy, this what you wanted? Want me to tear you up, fuck this little hole out?"

Maybe Sam never stopped crying, but the tears running down his face don't seem to affect the impact of his desperate, "yes, yes, _christ_ , make me take it," since Dean's hips just pick up speed.

"Fuck, I can _hear_ how much lube you got in there. C'you hear your greedy hole, Sammy?"

Sam nods frantically, can't catch his breath to do more.

"Want me to leave a mess in here, baby?" Dean untangles his right hand so he can pry at the edges of Sam's asshole where Sam thinks he might begin to burst at his seams.

"Put it in me, want it so bad."

It's not a single wet-hot sensation like Sam pictured. It's a hundred points of pleasure-pain as Dean forces the tip of one finger in beside his cock, bites into the meat of Sam's shoulder, and his cock pulses deep inside Sam's body.

When Dean pulls out, it's with a flash of pain and a sloppy noise that turns Sam blistering blushing from his ears to the small of his back.

"Shit, Sammy," Dean sounds punched out, defeated, but not disappointed looking at the slick-red mess left between Sam's legs.

He leans down and Sam expects to be spit on, to be spanked, to be punished so he can't help how he gasps to feel Dean's mouth on his newfound tenderness, tongue dipping right inside with no resistance.

The good-eating slurps of Dean's mouth where Sam feels permanently altered are worth any hurt left in him. The sounds stop though before Sam's body can decide if he wants to push back and see how much Dean can drink from him or see if he can get hard again.

"Don't do this to me, baby, okay?" Dean speaks against the crease between Sam's ass and his thigh, like he wants to pretend they aren't having this conversation. "Just ask me. I want you any way you'll have me. You don't have to convince me, I swear."

Sam looks over his shoulder to meet Dean's eye where his cheek is pillowed on the curve of Sam's ass. His eyes are tired and salty, his body is limp and sated and new all over, and Dean is his.

Sam nods and reaches back to touch Dean's kiss-red mouth.

And for the first time Sam realizes that someone on the planet understands his fixation. Maybe even shares it.


End file.
